Blood Laws

by Lexi C. Foss

  “You know, spending Friday night at home with a book or watching a movie. I don’t like the whole socialite thing. That’s Lizzie’s scene.”

  “Yet you appear to be fully ingrained in their world.”

  “Only by association.”

  “That’s all it takes.”

  “But it’s not my scene. I only tag along to keep Lizzie company.”

  He considered. “Your friendship with Elizabeth is interesting.” The Watkins were social climbers and their daughter was a CRF science experiment. The stunning redhead wasn’t related to her parents, something she seemed oblivious to. He wondered when George and Lillian would break the news to her. Allowing her to attend university and work full time could not be their ultimate plans for the poor girl. Befriending Astasiya was either an accident or arranged. The truth remained unclear.

  “We met during our freshman year at Columbia. She was my assigned roommate. It was awkward at first. She likes pink, I mean really likes pink, and hugs, and she can be a bit boy crazy. We had a few ground rules to work out, but she’s become my best friend over the years.” She smiled. “She’s Lizzie.”

  “That’s how you met the Fitzgeralds?”

  “Yeah. Sunday brunch. It’s a monthly tradition. I think it started before Lizzie was born.”

  “I’m certain it did.” George helped create the CRF and was one of the few who knew what the organization was designed to do. “How are you feeling?” Her immortal bloodline was helping her heal much faster than a human. Only a touch of makeup on her inner elbows was needed to hide the fading marks.

  She swallowed the last bit of her champagne and set it on a table off to the side. An indication she was done. “Physically, I feel fine.”

  “And emotionally?”

  “Well, I’m a mix of pissed off, confused, and overwhelmed.”

  “All reasonable reactions.” He leaned over her to set his glass next to hers. Her pulse leapt, enticing the Ichorian within him. It appeared aroused was another emotion on her list. He pulled back, but not all the way. He extended his right arm over the seat behind her and let his left hand fall to her exposed thigh. Goosebumps pebbled beneath his fingers as he lightly traced the slit of her dress.

  “I do like this dress.”

  “That’s good because you paid for it.”

  “Does that bother you?” It was common to send his dates outfits for events. What wasn’t common was scheduling an afternoon of spa treatments and allowing the woman to pick her own dress on his dime. The only female he ever did that for was Amelia, but his blonde complication needed a diversion. A massage, formal hairdo, and makeup, and an afternoon of shopping designer dresses seemed an appropriate distraction.

  “Not really, but only because I don’t know how much it all cost. They wouldn’t let me pay for anything.” Her glare was cute. She didn’t like him taking care of her.

  “You would be the first woman to ever complain about that in my presence.”

  “We’ve already gone over the part about me not being a socialite. Besides, we’re not really dating.”

  “No?” It certainly felt like they were. At least tonight. His thumb slipped beneath the silk, lightly brushing her inner thigh.

  “No, it’s a business deal. Although I really don’t know what you’re getting out of it.”

  He leaned closer, his palm sliding up her leg. Her shuddering breath fanned his lips. “Are you sure about that, Astasiya?”

  *

  She couldn’t form a response with him looking at her like that.

  If she tilted her head just an inch, their mouths would touch. She wanted to devour him in that tuxedo. The all-black ensemble was lethally seductive. The vest hugged his muscular torso, highlighting his strength and finesse. She ran her nail down the front of it, luxuriating in the feel of him. His palm was a brand against her thigh, that thumb of his drawing delicious circles against her bare flesh. They should skip the date part and go back to his condo. Or stay in the limo all night.

  There was something she wanted from him first. It weighed on her mind all day. She couldn’t remember what it was, not with the sandalwood and mint mingling with her every breath. It was his natural scent, a heady mix that left her reeling. The champagne was not helping. Neither was the hot male cage surrounding her. His arm settled on her shoulders.

  “By my calculation, we have about five minutes before we hit 61st Street.” The whispered words were hot against her parted lips. “Not nearly enough time.”

  “We could just not go.” Was that husky voice hers? He was undoing her. Every thought unraveled, falling to a puddle at her feet. Touching him was a necessity. Her palms went to his chest, the pads of her fingers luxuriating in the feel of silk against stone. He was wearing too many layers.

  “Hmm, a tempting offer.” He closed the gap between their mouths, taking her in an intoxicating kiss that threatened to destroy her. Everything tingled. She would never get enough of this man.

  Her nails gripped silk as his tongue parted her lips. He lifted her onto his lap. She straddled him, one leg fully exposed thanks to the slit in her dress. He palmed the back of her neck and deepened the kiss. She forgot how to breathe. All that mattered were his hands on her. The one caressing her exposed hip was growing bolder, sliding beneath the silk to fondle the lace beneath. If only he would move those fingers a few inches south to where she needed him.

  “You’ll be my undoing,” he whispered before reclaiming her mouth.

  Heat radiated from her lower belly as fire licked through her veins. It left her quaking with a need so intense she nearly forgot where they were. In a limo, surrounded by flashing cameras. She tore her mouth from his to peer out the tinted windows. They couldn’t see inside. The flashes were a car’s length in front of them, taking photos of the celebrities as they exited. She shivered both from the feel of the hot aroused male beneath her and the realization that she was about to be surrounded by vultures with cameras.

  “Shit.” Reality crashed down on her shoulders, making her rigid. “Can’t we just go to the movies like a normal couple?”

  His laugh was unexpected. It warmed her cheeks and almost elicited a smile despite the chaos going on beyond the windows. He trailed his palm down her exposed leg, but left his other hand around her neck. “We’re a couple now? I thought this was a business deal.”

  She swatted at his chest and climbed off of him. “You know what I mean.”

  He leaned over to fix her dress with the ease of a man who tousled women in limos often. Not something she wanted to think about.

  His focus went to her hair as he said, “I have to make an appearance tonight, otherwise I would take you home and do normal couple things to you.” His blue eyes met hers to mock those two words, before he continued messing with her hair. “How do you feel about art?”

  “Uh.” Art? “It’s not something I know much about.”

  “Then we’ll skip the auction. I’m not much of an art connoisseur anyway.”

  “There’s an art auction?”

  “It’s a gala, darling. The auction is a fundraiser for tonight’s charity.” His fingers trailed down her neck to her arms. “There you are, gorgeous as ever.”

  His English lilt intensified the compliment, making her warm all over. If anyone was gorgeous, it was him in that tux.

  The door opened beside him. A middle-aged man wearing a penguin suit greeted Issac by name. He answered in kind before asking after the doorman’s wife and children. He must visit the hotel frequently to be so familiar with The Pierre’s staff. How many dates did he entertain here?

  His hand appeared in the doorway, an invitation to escort her into the frenzy that waited outside. It was just one night. She would be known as the random blonde on his arm tonight and compared to all the models and famous actresses who accompanied him before her. No pressure. All she had to do was stand beside him while the cameras did their job, and move on. She could handle that.

  She took his hand and let him a
ssist her out of the limo. Lightning flashed around her as the photographers went crazy. She sheltered her eyes. Issac wrapped his hand around hers and guided it downwards between them.

  “Just breathe.” His lips brushed against her ear as the hand not holding hers slid around her waist to hold her close. “And maybe smile.”

  “Why, because you always smile?”

  “Meaning?”

  “You never smile in photos.” She must have gone through thousands of event photos while researching him Monday night. Never once did he grin, or even crack a smile. “So why should I smile?”

  A hint of amusement flickered through his dark blue eyes. “What else did you learn about me, Astasiya?”

  “Nothing useful.”

  “My net worth didn’t intrigue you?”

  She snorted. “Assuming it’s even true, no. Your biography read like a page out of the playboy handbook.”

  His resulting laugh sent a shiver down her spine. It was a true display of delight that reminded her of warm chocolate, sweet and overwhelming to the senses. Her resulting smile was automatic, a product of his open charisma.

  Tightening his arm around her, he kissed her on the temple before returning his mouth to her ear. “Your honesty is refreshing.”

  “Does that mean you’ll repay the favor?”

  “Perhaps later.” He nibbled on her neck before returning his attention to the photographers. They were eating up his display of affection, making her wonder how much of this was the real him and how much of it was an act.

  With the ease of a professional used to navigating paparazzi, he angled them closer to the entrance, pausing every few seconds for another photo. He made a show of smiling for the cameras. There were going to be a lot of broken hearts tomorrow when the pictures surfaced because his smile and that tux were captivating. She paled in comparison at his side, but did her best to pose along with him while the media shouted questions at Issac.

  “Tell us about your date.”

  “Give us a name!”

  “How did you meet?”

  She lifted up on her toes to whisper in his ear. “Doesn’t this exhaust you?”

  He trailed his fingers up her exposed spine to fondle a strand of her hair as another photographer snapped their picture. “I doubt I will ever tire of having my hands on you, darling.”

  “I think we’re past pickup lines, Issac.”

  “I don’t use lines, something I believe I demonstrated in the limo. Or do you require another, more public, demonstration?” The hand playing with her hair moved to her neck. He dipped her back, his opposite hand grabbing her hip to hold her steady as he lowered his mouth to hers. “I’m happy to oblige.” Each word was spoken against her lips.

  Lights flashed around them as he held her just out of view of their audience. From their perspective, it probably looked like he had danced her into a backwards dip and was taking full advantage of the position. The media was in a riot, all demanding to know her name. Oh God. If he was trying to distract her from almost dying this week, it was working. Her focus was divided between needing to hide and wanting to kiss him.

  “I think I might have to hurt you.”

  “You could try.” He pulled her upright, aligning her body to his. “I would very much enjoy punishing you for it.”

  Desire pooled in her belly. It went against all her ingrained ideals to be turned on by the thought of being punished, but her hormones weren’t on the same wavelength as her brain. She would be having a serious discussion with her common sense later.

  “Smile, darling. Your natural blush is quite lovely.” He returned her to the view of their spectators and gave them all another adorable grin. Warmth sufficed her face and arms as she forced herself to smile. They were not pictures she wanted to see tomorrow.

  There were several employees waiting in the palatial lobby of the hotel to give directions. Issac bypassed them all, leading her to an opulent room with over fifty dining tables set up before a center stage. Chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings and candles decorated the walls between lavish red curtains. The ornate tiled floor gave the room a classical appeal, dating the hotel’s wealth and grandeur.

  They were assigned to a table near the middle of the room with a clear view of the podium. She had no idea what type of fundraiser this was, but she recognized several famous faces throughout the room. A number of them greeted Issac by name as they sauntered by, acknowledging him as part of the beautiful people club. He handed her a glass of champagne from a passing tray before taking one for himself. If his goal was to get her drunk tonight, it was working.

  “Cheers, darling.” He tapped his flute against hers.

  “This is quite the life you lead, Issac.” The champagne was good, but she preferred the one from the limo. It was drier with a fruity note.

  “The night’s only getting started.” He kept his arm around her, holding her close while he socialized with the guests. She gathered it was customary to mingle before dinner as no one was sitting down in the full room. A few waiters wandered with trays of appetizers that Issac recommended avoiding.

  “They taste like plastic,” her demon whispered before continuing a conversation with some politician. She knew demon was no longer the appropriate term, but it suited him too well to stop using it. Okay, so maybe it is a pet name. Not that she would admit it out loud.

  He introduced her to each newcomer, but no one was interested in her. They all wanted to talk to Wakefield Pharmaceutical’s handsome CEO, not his arm candy. She didn’t mind. Watching him work was fascinating. He was in his element here, seducing the crowd and inspiring appreciative grins from all over the room. This was his world, and he owned it. She was the imposter, as several feminine glares pointed out. She wondered what he was doing here with her.

  “Stas?”

  She called Lizzie this afternoon to ask for pointers about the gala tonight. It served as a way for her to explain where she was all week and stay on her best friend’s good side. It never occurred to her that Lizzie wasn’t her only friend who attended high society events. Until now.

  “Hey Tom.” He was sporting a tux. Black jacket, tie, vest, and pants with a crisp white shirt. Lizzie’s jaw would be on the floor. He cleaned up well, but she preferred him in his trademark jeans and brown leather jacket. That was his comfort zone, not this fancy penguin suit.

  She belatedly realized they interrupted the conversation Issac was having with a couple of politicians. Tom turned on the charm, greeting everyone by name and shaking their hands. He wasn’t as smooth as Issac, but he was an accepted member of the beautiful people club. This was the man the society magazine dubbed as one of the city’s hottest bachelors. There were several women in the room whose gazes agreed with the assertion.

  When his focus returned to her demon, his easy grin fell. They didn’t shake hands. “Wakefield.”

  “Thomas.”

  Testosterone radiated from the men. She was between them, Issac’s arm secured around her waist, while everyone in a ten foot radius of them watched the exchange.

  Yeah, this isn’t awkward at all, boys.

  “It was nice of your father to give you the weekend off.” Issac broke the terse silence, his arm a brand against her bare back.

  “Oh, don’t let the suit fool you. I’m always working.”

  She froze. It was so natural to see her friend that she didn’t think anything of it until he mentioned work. The CRF. The organization that may or may not have tried to kill her. Oh shit. She didn’t believe it was possible, but a small trickle of doubt danced down her spine. What if they did try to kill me? Would they notice the fading bruises on her arms? They were faded thanks to her unnatural ability to heal, and makeup, but they were fresh reminders of what happened to her this week.

  I almost died and just woke up this morning. The harsh realization made her shiver. As loath as she was to admit it, the pampering helped her forget. At least for a little while. Being presented with one of her closest friends,
a man she trusted, who may or may not work for an organization that tried to kill her, made her pulse race.

  Issac placed a hot kiss against her neck and brushed his lips against her ear. “Breathe. You’re safe.”

  I don’t feel safe. Not with Tom staring her demon down with that murderous look. Whatever the history between them, Dr. Fitzgerald didn’t appear to share it. His brown eyes radiated warmth as he approached from the side.

  “Hello, Stas. You look lovely, dear.” His presence dispelled some of the tension as the crowd refocused on the respected humanitarian. She didn’t get a chance to reply before the others engulfed him in introductions and kind words. She silently thanked them for the reprieve while she gathered her wits. Pull it together, Stas. This was her mentor and his son. They were her family here in the city. Why would they hurt her? This was all a misunderstanding. Issac himself said it was speculation. Stop freaking out.

  “The good doctor is receiving an award tonight,” Issac whispered. “They’re also sitting at our table.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” Sarcasm underlined each word. He could have given her a heads up in the limo.

  Amusement brightened his gaze. “You’re welcome, darling.”

  “This is the second time I’ve seen you two together this week.” Dr. Fitzgerald commented after he was done making his rounds. His brown gaze was curious, but didn’t harbor any hostility. Unlike the son beside him, who appeared to be contemplating the best way to disfigure her demon.

  “Worried I might steal her?” Warm lips brushed her cheek, resulting in a harder glare from Tom.

  What is his problem? Issac wasn’t boyfriend of the year material, but he wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t be jealous. Their friendship was platonic. He treated her like a kid sister. Something else was going on, a history she wasn’t aware of between the two. Maybe it was a hottest bachelor rivalry issue?

  Dr. Fitzgerald raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”